Face Down
by Katie Aine
Summary: He spent his whole life watching people, she was the only one to surprise him, she was the only one to capture his intrest, she was the only one he really cared about. LunaBlaise. AU. Oneshot.


**Face Down**

Hey girl, you know you drive me crazy  
One look puts the rhythm in my head  
Still I'll never understand why you hang around  
I see what's going down

Cover up with makeup in the mirror  
Tell yourself it's never gonna happen again  
You cry alone and then he swears he loves you

Do you feel like a man when you push her around?  
Do you feel better now as she falls to the ground?  
Well, I'll tell you my friend, one day this world's going to end  
As your lies crumble down, a new life she has found

A pebble in the water makes a ripple effect  
Every action in this world will bear a consequence  
If you wait around forever you will surely drown  
I see what's going down

I see the way you go and say you're alright again  
Say you're alright again  
Heed my lecture

Do you feel like a man when you push her around?  
Do you feel better now as she falls to the ground?  
Well, I'll tell you my friend, one day this world's going to end  
As your lies crumble down, a new life she has found

Face down in the dirt she says "this doesn't hurt"  
She says " I've finally had enough"  
Face down in the dirt she says "this doesn't hurt"  
She says " I've finally had enough"

One day she will tell you that she has had enough  
It's coming round again

Do you feel like a man when you push her around?  
Do you feel better now as she falls to the ground?  
Well, I'll tell you my friend, one day this world's going to end  
As your lies crumble down, a new life she has found

Do you feel like a man when you push her around?  
Do you feel better now as she falls to the ground?  
Well, I'll tell you my friend, one day this world's going to end  
As your lies crumble down, a new life she has found

Face down in the dirt she says "this doesn't hurt"  
She says " I've finally had enough" (2x)

* * *

I've been watching her for eight years now. Eight years she has intrigued me, fascinated me and utterly confused me. That's not something I like to admit. I'm not one to be at a loss. But it's only now, after all those years, that I'm beginning to understand her. 

She first caught my attention during her sorting ceremony. She walked up to that hat, no she skipped up to the hat. In the middle of the Great Hall, she skipped. Her face was completely void of any fear that most first years displayed. She looked as though her head was stuck in the stars that glinted from the ceiling above.

I scoffed with the rest of my house, that girl was clearly a Hufflepuff, muggle born and completely daft.

I was wrong.

She turned out to be in Ravenclaw, I still held on to the belief that she was muggle born. It explained her stupid behavior and the fact that she was indeed, completely daft.

I couldn't help but notice her as the year went on. She managed to stand out wherever she went.

An outrageous lime green hat one day and a pair of knee high mis-matched socks the next. This had little effect on me, other than drawing my attention to her more often that most first years. My opinion of her hadn't changed and I didn't see it doing so in the future.

I had her pinned if only for a few months; I had her labeled, just like everyone else. For two months before school ended for my second year, her first, I knew who she was and what her place in my life was. Not that she had a significant place at the time, but everyone had a place in my mind. Everyone was packaged up, it was something I did.

Exams came a went, I got off the train and into my parents limo and I didn't think of her over the summer break.

If I didn't see a person, there status didn't change and there was no need to busy myself with them.

Over the summer my status had changed though. I celebrated by thirteenth birthday and my mother congratulated me, informing me that I was now on my way to carrying on the family business.

The family business of being disgustingly rich, beautiful, proud, pompous, imposing and in control. That was really all he seemed to do. There were the parties and the husbands. Both of which raked in the pounds and found her in charge.

So I became imposing and pompous as it already came naturally to me.

* * *

As I started my third year I was getting comfortable with my position in my house. People were beginning to respect me and the younger years feared me. I found I actually enjoyed it. 

I was walking to Potions on day when a blond mass came hurtling around the corner and bumped right into me. She stumbled backwards and sat right down on the floor.

"Terribly sorry," she said from her spot on the floor, 'It'll never happen again."

She stood up and dusted herself off.

"Here, take one of my Kelpie feathers, I've got too many."

I looked at her incredulously; she clearly had no idea who I was. No one talked to me like that anymore.

She had a fearless look in her eyes as she babbled on about how misunderstood Kelpies were. I simply rolled my eyes and brushed past her. She was either very brave or very daft. I personally liked the sound of the latter.

I finished that year sticking to the idea that she was indeed daft, but there was always a nagging thought in the back of my head that I might be wrong. It was almost as though I wanted to be wrong, I quickly dismissed that thought and once again, didn't think of her over the summer.

* * *

During my fourth year she started to surprise me. 

Her peers gave her a nickname. Loony is what they called her now.

At first it was just behind her back, a whisper here, a whisper there. I didn't catch wind of it until my own house started calling her by the new name. I wouldn't have noticed it otherwise because it was as though _she_ didn't notice that she was being teased.

Most people would've hid their head or run away from that name calling but she didn't seem to care at all.

I knew she heard them though. I had watched her tell the great Harry Potter very matter-of-factly that it was what they called her.

He got all righteous and bothered by it, but she just took it in stride.

It gave me more reason to doubt my views on her intelligence. Well, at least my views on her mental strength, to ignore the teasing and peer pressure.

* * *

It was during my fifth year that things started to change. Her and her classmates were fourteen now and well, that's when kids really get mean. 

There had always been the weird looks and then there was the name but now they were taking it further.

The Ravenclaws started it. To this day I believe it was because they had the same problem as I, they couldn't pin her. They couldn't find any logic or sense in her. That's all most Ravenclaws had to offer. So they ridiculed her.

Now they went out of their way to mock her. The clothes she wore, her 'accessories' and it even progressed to her family over the year.

The Slytherins had no problem verbally abusing her. She wasn't one of them and most believed her to be muggle born; it was all the more reason to put her down in their minds. They brought language the Ravenclaws wouldn't have thought of using.

The Hufflepuffs added nothing but numbers. They had no objections to the treatment of the girl because she wasn't one of theirs; they had no loyalty to her. They were poor 'insulters' as it were, having had very little experience in the matter. But they provided the crowds to stand and jeer. They provided gossipers to spread the rumors.

Those in her dorm and in her classes would steal anything and everything they could get their hands on. I wouldn't have noticed had it not been for the signs she put up at the end of the year; signs asking for a missing left shoe or charms textbook.

The thing that really got me over those four years is that she never changed. She didn't change when they gave her weird looks in the hall, she didn't change when no one talked to her, she didn't change when they called her Loony, she didn't change when they mocked her and she didn't change when they mocked her family.

She was always cheerful and polite and really, very friendly. It was rather unnerving and I think some part of me respected her, even then.

That summer, I thought about her. She popped into my head once or twice, I'm not sure why. Perhaps it was her strong will that inspired me in some way.

* * *

Upon returning for my sixth year things seemed to be much of the same. I thought I was getting closer to tying her up in a neat bow, I found myself almost disappointed as though my victory of categorizing her like everyone else wouldn't really be a victory. 

So I paid closer attention to her. I watched her all the time now. I wasn't her stalker, I couldn't tell you what she ate for breakfast or which bed in the dorm was hers, but I observed.

The ridiculing had escalated. Now the comments made in passing were often accompanied by a shove or a foot being thrown out to trip her.

The spells to split her bag had excessive force behind them and began to cut her as well as the thin fabric. But you wouldn't have noticed, unless you were watching.

Her demeanor didn't change; she still looked like she was floating in the clouds. She had the same look as her first day here, the fearless glint in her eyes when all others were terrified.

This was an interesting development to say the least. And that's what it was to me then, a development in my observations. I might've been turning into a Ravenclaw with all the watching of that house I'd been doing for four years. I was becoming analytical like them.

The months passed, as they always had. She ate with her traitorous house every day and attended every one of her classes. No amount of abuse from her peers seemed to deter her.

It was a February day, a Sunday actually. It was brisk out as the school walked out to the horseless carriages for a Hogsmead trip. She was a group or two of people ahead of me, three boys and two girls of her house and year fell in behind her. As they passed the Lake she found herself falling into the freezing water.

To the passer by it looked as though she tripped on the hem of her cloak, if one was watching, they would've noticed the wands come out moments before she 'fell'.

Everyone looked on as she floundered under the weight of her winter clothes for a moment until she managed to shed her cloak. It sank as her arms broke the surface of the water, followed in short order by her head gasping for air.

Not one person moved forward to help her as she made her way to the edge and pulled herself onto the bank. She didn't seem fazed at all. She wrung her hair out as if she intended to take a quick dip.

She promptly turned and started calling to the Giant Squid, asking if her could fetch her cloak from the water. The crowd moved on with some jeers and declarations of her madness. And that's what the average person would've seen, an obviously crazy girl.

If you were watching however, you would've noticed bruises lining her arms that had been exposed due to her lack of outerwear. And you would've seen the red marks on her jaw where her makeup had been washed away.

I was willing to bet my life that the minuet she entered the castle she would head off to research some waterproof cover-up spells. I was slightly surprised that she hadn't already had one on. The spell she had been using was very shoddy.

I would later learn that this was the beginning of the affects her abuse would have. She was loosing some of her edge.

She was still an amazing actress; she had me fooled that entire year. I still believed that nothing could faze her. She still hadn't changed for them.

At the Slug Club meetings she ranted on and on about her many bizarre theories on the world and creatures no one but her and her father believed in. The Slytherins, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws all rolled their eyes at her, some Gryffindors with their heads too far up their arses pretended to humor her. But I was the only one to listen and I don't think she ever knew it. And I didn't know I had come to enjoy her odd ideas.

That summer I definitely thought about her, I was almost ready to give up on labeling her. It didn't seem possible. She didn't fit in to any category I could think of and she was constantly opening more doors for me to walk through.

After five years of observation all of my original impressions were refuted. She wasn't muggle born, I'd found an article in an old paper about her mother. She was actually an amazing witch, albeit reckless and now dead, but she did some amazing work. And her father was the owner of the Quibbler. That didn't say much good about him, but you couldn't deny that he was strong headed and ambitious.

She wasn't a Hufflepuff, she wasn't muggle born and she was most definitely not daft.

I was wrong about her.

She was and still is the only person I was completely wrong about with my first impression. And I was oddly pleased about being wrong. She had made my years here much more interesting than I expected them to be.

The constant desire to define her was the only real challenge I had faced in that school. Somewhere during my sixth year my desire to define her changed to my desire to know her. Once again, I didn't realize it at the time.

* * *

This year, my final year, I wasn't naïve enough to think that everything would be the same. I knew she would show me something different, I was ready for it, I was looking forward to it and I knew it. 

Her hair was as blond as ever, her radishes hung from her ears and she had a giant pair of purple sunglasses on. Her head bobbed slightly during the Welcoming Feast and I could just imagine her humming a tune that no one else had ever heard before.

On Halloween she showed up to breakfast wearing a faerie costume complete with wings that seemed transparent and so real as they moved softly. Halloween fell on a Saturday that year so she wore it the entire day.

That was also the day I walked in on a meeting of sorts between the same three boys, two girls and of course, her.

I left my own common room around 8:00, two hours before curfew. Regardless, I spelled myself invisible. I didn't like to be interrupted on my walks. An egg seemed to crack on my head as I tapped my wand to it and my body disappeared as the yolk ran down until I was completely gone.

After an hour of walking and watching no one interesting, I heard some scuffling coming from a dark corridor. I was on the third floor at the time and there were still no classrooms used there. You didn't often find people on that floor.

Naturally I followed the noise. There she sat on the floor, legs crossed beneath her apparently drawing as the two girls attempted to get her attention by insulting her.

She provided no response; she just sat there, going about her business; a pencil in her hand and her wand tucked characteristically behind her ear. She didn't even look up at them.

The girls were getting frustrated; and you could tell. They finally both straightened and moved behind the three boys, the one girl snapping her fingers.

The tallest of the three- probably 6'1, I noticed these things- picked her up with one hand around her neck and pushed her against the wall with enough force to knock her wand to he ground. She was still wearing her faerie costume; I noticed how small she had gotten. Perhaps she had always been so thin but I had always thought of her as a well built girl. Now, she wasn't as skinny as my mother's friends, but she could definitely get there.

I didn't raise a finger and they taunted her, hit her or pushed her around. I was a Slytherin and we didn't fight other people's battles. She would help herself.

She surprised me that night and this time it wasn't a welcome surprise.

She didn't fight back at all, she just took it. They left her face down in the dirt of the floor, just laying there covered in bruises, dress ripped.

I had expected her to do something. I didn't think she was one to give up and let them do that to her. It was one thing to ignore childish taunts and pathetic attempts to inconvenience her. But she, she just stood there as they beat the crap out of her.

I didn't understand her once again.

The following weeks found her dressing like everyone else, acting like everyone else and quietly going to classes like everyone else.

There were no more striped socks, radish earrings or butterbeer cork necklaces. There was no more talk of nargle infested mistletoe or Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. She didn't read the Quibbler upside down during dinner. She didn't skip or walk backwards or hum to herself.

She gave in, she changed for them, she broke.

I was wrong about her.

I thought she was unmovable. I thought she was strong, I thought she could stand up to anything. I didn't think she would change for anyone. I had respected her.

I was disappointed in her, in myself for believing in her.

I began to miss her. I had come to look forward to her rants during those stupid Slug Club meetings, to her hair bouncing up and down or swaying as she moved. I had looked forward to her being different.

Now she was just like everyone else, boring like everyone else.

But I couldn't stop watching her. I did, just as I had done before. I think she might've noticed it, sometimes she would look over at me and her once fearless eyes were empty. There was no fight left in her.

I now had the opportunity to pin her, once and for all, as a quiet, studious, Ravenclaw. But I didn't want to, I didn't want her to let me, I wanted her to surprise me again.

I heard them in that third floor corridor every so often, I wanted to stop them, I wanted to curse them, I wanted to yell at them. They disgusted me, three boys beating up one girl for two years. They could've been Slytherins.

But I didn't, if I was the one to stop it, it would mean she would disappoint me again. I didn't want that. I wanted her to go back to who she was and I wanted her to want it.

I was doing my rounds as a prefect on night in May when I heard them again. This was the first time I'd heard them while on duty, now I had to stop it. It was my obligation.

I turned down the corridor and was met with a familiar sight. She was face down on the ground again, the five of them towering over her.

"Say something bitch!" one of the girls screamed.

I was about to light my wand and call to them, when I heard her.

"This doesn't hurt." She said, quietly, but in the dead silence everyone heard it.

"What?" the taller boy snarled.

"This doesn't hurt," she said getting to her feet, "I've finally had enough."

And she threw a punch at the closest guy.

I was right about her.

I smiled to myself.

After recovering from the shock of resistance, the others tried to push her back down again. She had already gotten her wand back from the floor and hexed all five of them.

I stepped in then, sent the five of them to the hospital wing after giving them detentions for a week.

I told her she should probably go visit Madame Pomfrey but I doubt she ever did.

She left me in that corridor humming quietly to herself.

The next morning she entered the Great Hall wearing radish earrings and black blue and green striped socks. Instead of sitting at her table, she skipped over towards the Slytherin table.

I was surprised, not by her change in appearance; I expected it and was oddly happy to see her back again.

I was surprised that she was skipping and looking directly at me.

She stopped beside me and stuck out her hand.

"Luna Lovegood," she said with that fearless look in her eyes as the Great Hall went almost dead silent. The only noise was the hushed complaints of a few seventh year girls, but I was a figure of importance among Slytherins you could say, so no one voiced anything too loud.

I looked at her for a moment, smiled politely and shook her hand.

"Blaise Zabini, pleasure to have you back."

And with that she walked back to her table, humming I song I recognized by an obscure band trying to make it in the wizarding world.

After six years, I was no closer to defining her, but she had shown me someone I would never have expected. Her oddities had grown on me and I actually missed her during those months. I was glad to have her back and was fully intending to talk to her again.

We became well acquainted over the last months of school. I graduated that June and the war took us separate ways, my mother wanted to be on the side of power and she saw the Dark as that side. I managed to avoid becoming a Death Eater but couldn't avoid the rumors of my involvement.

* * *

I saw her again, two years after the war ended. She was working in the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. I saw her name on a few articles of the Quibbler, I actually read them too. 

While walking in Diagon Alley one day, I found myself humming. I stopped as soon as I noticed it but the tune was stuck in my head, I realized it was the same song she had been humming after she introduced herself to me.

I was overcome with the urge to see her again, so I headed straight for the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. I paused at the window to look in; she was arranging a display on the far wall.

As I entered I found myself nervous for some reason, I wasn't one to be nervous, and it surprised me. But then again, we _were_ dealing with her.

She hadn't noticed me come up behind her. I cleared my throat to get her attention.

"Hmmm?" she asked still working with her back to me.

"Blaise Zabini," I said, sticking out my hand.

Her hands stopped moving and she turned around slowly, that dreamy smile on her face.

"Luna Lovegood, pleasure to have you back." She said, shaking my hand.

I couldn't help but smile at her, something only she could make me do.

FIN

* * *

I was inspired by the song Face Down by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus while eating yogurt on my kitchen floor and listening to the radio. Anyway, I couldn't find a paring that I liked for the idea, until I remembered my dear Luna Lovegood. The story is slightly AU as I don't touch on the DA and the abuse she takes from her peers is much more violent. I think I like how it turned out, do let me know what you think. 


End file.
